Prologue

Harry growled under his breath as he listened to yet another tirade of the "why Harry Potter is evil" speech. His aunt and uncle, and their son Dudley had given him nothing but tongue lashings (although in Dudley's case, it was more toward telling mummy about something he felt Harry did wrong.... which Petunia always agreed with) since Harry had got home from Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardry. This was nothing new to Harry, who had endured it every day of his life, before going off to the school of magic, and then for most of the summer holidays every summer afterward.

"Just once," thought Harry, "I'd like to be able to blast my idiot relatives into next week." Of course, this thought invariably led to Harry thinking about Cedric, or Colin, or Cho, and regretting his thought toward his relatives. After all, wouldn't they just love a chance to be ridiculed for something? The regret he felt toward his relatives never lasted very long, but Harry's depression and regret over the deaths of his friends had been plaguing his thoughts all summer. Voldemort's Rebirth and the events that followed had left most of the Wizarding world in a state of near panic. Harry wasn't panicked, he was angry. For years, ever sense Harry was a mere baby, Voldemort had done things to ruin his life. Harry's parents were dead at the dark wizard's hand, and so were a number of other good folk.

"--And you will have the garden weeded and the shrubs pruned, before you are allowed to have supper. Now get out there and get started!" yelled Uncle Vernon, seemingly unaware that Harry's attention had wavered.

"Yes sir," said Harry automatically. He had known that some chore or another would appear at the end of his uncle's rant, and had no patience to listen to anything else. So it was with a heavy heart that Harry began to attack the weeds, imagining every one to have Voldemort's face.

Before long, Harry allowed his mind to drift away from the task at hand, and back to that day at the Triwizard Tournament. All the pain and suffering Cedric's family and friends had gone through, all the anguish, the tear streaked face of Colin's mother, Harry knew it was his fault. His nightmares, when they didn't feature Cedric himself, often featured the tear-streaked face of Cho Chang, after the Triwizard Tournament, or her blackened body on the floor of the Great Hall.

Harry had spent most of his fourth year pining over her, and when he finally asked her to the Yule ball, only to find out she was already going to go with Cedric…oh well. Not sense in thinking about that anymore. Cho was gone. One of many who's lives had been cut short, in an ultimately successful attempt to drive Voldemort's henchmen from the Hogwarts grounds.

Needless to say, being forced to stay yet again with the Dursleys last summer, and this one as well, had done nothing to calm Harry's spirits. He missed his friends, he missed magic, and if he were perfectly truthful, Harry missed his life. Fortunately for Harry, he didn't have long to wait.

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